


Heart and Soul

by Ceryna



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Minor cursing, a peek in to Tsukki's head, beware the angst, flashbacks and timeskips, the tsukishima bros reconcile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-25 02:43:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12026439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceryna/pseuds/Ceryna
Summary: "Kei hates being called selfish.Not because it’s true, but because it reminds him of the time when he wasn’t.Contrary to popular belief, therewasa time when he wore his heart on his sleeve--rather, a time before the fortress walls were built around it. A time when distance and doubt were unnecessary. A time whenNii-chan!The drawbridge gate slams down, but it doesn’t erase the thought. It seals it in."A story about how Kei's relationship with his brother fell apart--and how it came back together.





	Heart and Soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redrioting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redrioting/gifts), [Anne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne/gifts).



> I intended for this piece to appear in the Tsukki Fanthology zine, which has since fallen through. It breaks my heart a lil not to see it there, but since I'm proud of it, I wanted to share it with you all. 
> 
> Please enjoy~
> 
> Special thanks to Anne, for always supporting me, and to Mack, for yelling with me about this salty french fry. <3

 

Kei hates being called selfish.

 

Not because it’s true, but because it reminds him of the time when he wasn’t.

 

Contrary to popular belief, there _was_ a time when he wore his heart on his sleeve--rather, a time before the fortress walls were built around it. A time when distance and doubt were unnecessary. A time when

 

_Nii-chan!_

 

The drawbridge gate slams down, but it doesn’t erase the thought. It seals it in.

 

* * *

 

High levels of trust induce a mentality resistant to the thought ‘(a person) tells lies’. Such a powerful state creates the assumption that anyone who challenges that person is mistaken. Therefore, when his classmate claimed there were no regulars on the Karasuno team named Tsukishima, jumping to his brother’s defense was an automatic response.

 

_His spine goes rigid. You’re kidding, right?_

_Stop right there, you liar._

 

It wasn’t until later that a tiny seed of doubt appeared, hovering in the back of his mind. Being the ace of a powerhouse school made Akiteru nervous for games, sure. Carrying the team is a huge responsibility, Kei knew that. So he respected Aki’s wishes and never went.

 

That didn’t stop him from being disappointed, though. _I guess just knowing I support him gives him the strength he needs._

 

At the same time, he started to worry that Aki was outgrowing him--getting tired of him, moving on. _Maybe he was too busy carrying the team to worry about his little brother._

 

But asking Aki about practice always put a smile on his face, and he’d take the time to teach Kei things as well, so Kei figured there was nothing to worry about.

 

****

 

_He walks into the gym knowing he’ll recognize his brother instantly. The ace is the team’s anchor out on the court, scoring when they need him the most. Regardless of whether he wore the ‘4’ jersey, the ace stands out._

 

_It occurs to Kei then that he doesn’t even know what number Aki is, and hasn’t for a while. This lack of information, however, barely fazes him. He leans over the railing, scanning the floor for his brother._

 

Aki isn’t on the court.

This can’t be right _._

 

_His eyes sweep across the sidelines uselessly. He grips the railing, the cold metal turning warm under his fingers._

 

Where is he?

 

_Since his brother has been able to report on the matches, it means he has to be here somewhere. Kei rechecks the court and the sidelines before his gaze slides to the bleachers on the opposite side of the gym, to the banner reading ‘take to the skies’ and--_

 

_right above it, with a plastic megaphone in each hand, is Aki._

 

_The noise around Kei fades into a muted jumble of sounds, the shock worse than the movies’ post-decapitation Tarantino-esque eruption of blood. Numbness, like a spider, creeps down his spine and traps him in its web._

 

_He should have worried. Not even a lot more. Just a little and the pain might not have been as jarring._

 

_Et tu, Aki?_

_Not only Dad, but you too?_

 

_Something shatters in the distance, prompting his mouth to move of its own accord. It drops one word he doesn’t know will haunt him._

 

“Pathetic.”

 

****

 

There is something ridiculously poignant about betrayal.

 

For some, the anger is what they’ll never forget. For others, it’s the disbelief. For Kei, it’s crushing disappointment.

 

He’s reluctant to say he's _upset,_ instead preferring _unsettled_ by this breach of trust. He’s looked up to his brother for so long that it seems impossible to stop. Of course he doesn’t _want_ to stop, but this isn’t one tiny white lie--it’s years’ worth of them that he’s had the misfortune of unearthing all at once. Like a dam waiting to break, the truth cascades over him and holy hell does it _hurt._

 

The pain is a whole new experience this time, a sickness that fluctuates between fevers and chills. Before, pain was cold--the fear of loneliness, of being left behind, of losing his mom or his brother. The threat of emptiness. But this? This is far worse. This is learning that assurances, solace, and _warmth_ functioned as a disguise for the frigid truth.

 

Aki is talented. Kei knows this. A person cannot become the ace _and_ captain without formidable strength and ability. Succeeding in rigorous college prep courses isn’t easy either. Balancing club and team responsibilities on top of them? Extremely difficult. Studying for the Center Tests _and_ qualifying for admission to Tohoku University? Impossible without significant effort and determination.

 

And yet. And _yet._

 

Despite his brother’s aptitude for volleyball, despite his talents and skills, despite the countless hours he spent practicing and practicing, _hoping_ to become a regular, _it wasn’t enough._

 

_There will always be someone better._

 

****

 

The realization hits him like a shitton of bricks.

 

It’s a hazard of unearthing anything, really: the risk of loosening an integral piece of a life-size Jenga tower, causing it to collapse, burying everything in its path. However, Kei refuses to be stuck under a heap of thought-bricks, so he starts the lengthy process of clearing them away.

 

The first one is the hardest, the initial _what if_. Kei’s sure that if Aki had been honest with him, he’d have understood. He’s positive. But that doesn’t change the situation, so he sets the thought aside and moves on.

 

The next is a _why._ Why did Aki lie? The possible answers arrive in the form of more thought-bricks. They’re heavy as he pushes them out of the way. _To protect him. Because he believed that he could be the ace, too. To avoid letting him down._ That last one is deceptively light, because he moves it to reveal the heaviest one yet. _He didn’t want to be like their father._

 

A swell of empathy surges up, too soon. Kei scrambles away from the bricks-turned-dominoes, away from this burden that makes him feel like Atlas. It’s seconds, minutes, hours before he’s able to catch his breath. Shaking off the remaining disbelief, he finally manages to look back at the mess, gaze landing on the massive pile of bricks he’d extracted himself from.

 

It would be a waste for them all to just... sit there. _But what’s one to do with so many?_

 

The answer is simple. He’ll collect the bricks, pile on the mortar, and build them into a wall.

 

* * *

 

Aki moves out from home about a month before starting at Tohoku. Things are reorganized, boxed up and relocated, and then the house is silent.

 

It isn’t a peaceful silence. It’s an empty one.

 

Of course he talks with his mom, and Yamaguchi as well, but doing that doesn’t erase the quiet. They aren’t substitutes for his brother.

 

Kei refuses to admit he’s been thinking about Aki too much, instead focusing on quietly building up the walls.

 

****

 

The silence is relentless, in a way. It persists all the way up through starting at Karasuno.  

 

It hangs over Kei as he sits in class, zoning out through orientation after orientation. The senseis come and go, leaving him to sit in his preferred seat--halfway between the front and back of the room, on the side closest to the window. Why the senseis spend class time explaining _exactly_ what’s written on the syllabi is beyond him.

 

He’s never been one to shirk on his studies. After all, statistics show the correlation between succeeding in college prep courses and passing the Center Tests. However, he's been questioning just how much effort is actually necessary to succeed. This line of thinking also has him considering an interesting yet exhausting paradox: the desire for success, but also the reluctance to exert the energy to achieve said success.

 

It feels like he’s stuck in jet lag--like his brain is drifting, drifting, to some faraway place where time is meaningless and stagnant.

 

He’s well aware that jet lag is not a sickness, nor is it permanent, and figures he’ll recover soon enough.

 

****

 

Not a few days later, he has the misfortune of meeting a pair of hotheads, one as boisterous as the other is quick to anger.

 

They’re equally irritating. So irritating that he isn’t sure how he’s going to manage (read: survive) being on the same team as them.

 

At least he doesn’t have to worry about that until after Saturday’s match.

 

****

 

_If you think you’ll get by on effort alone, you’re gravely mistaken._

 

It annoys him that his words are taken by Hinata as fuel rather than food for thought. The ball of energy even has the gall to claim that _disadvantages and inability don’t matter._

 

Kei has many questions. First of all, _how can he say something like that so easily?_ Further, it’s an incorrect statement; those kinds of things _do_ matter _._ Second of all, why can Kageyama just say things like _I’ll get the ball to you_ so nonchalantly? Yes, he’s obviously an outlier in the talented setter department, but _still._ How can he instantly deliver on that kind of bold promise?

 

Of all the questions, though, he only asks one. “You hit it?” he says, eyeing Hinata skeptically through the net. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

 

Then Sawamura-san drops the game-changer.

 

“Just now… Hinata… had his eyes closed,” he says, voice coated in residual awe.

 

Kei feels his hands start to tremble and forces them to still. “What does that mean?” he says after a moment. But his mind moves faster than his mouth, so even as the captain explains it he's comprehending the absurdity on his own. He relays a “haaaah?” though, half on accident, but the fact remains. The duo’s fearlessness isn’t entirely baseless.

 

Which is infuriating.

 

****

 

Days after the match, Sawamura’s words still echo in his head. _You got really serious out there._ And that’s the truth.

 

What bothers him about it isn’t that the captain noticed it, but that he actually _did_ get serious.

 

Even after a year, it seems the fundamental lesson hasn’t completely sunk in yet. This defies all logic, much like the level of trust that instantly developed between Hinata and Kageyama.

 

He supposes that’s why their dynamic (aside from them in general) irks him so much. Not only does it ignore reason, let alone _physics,_ it seems to mock him.

 

****

 

The first practice match with Seijou serves as a prime example of the brilliance of talent. It is blinding, and Kei feels lackluster in comparison.

 

He knows he isn’t terrible. At the same time, he understands the only reason he's out on the court is his height. He's expected to block, to attack--to be part of the team. And he does so without enjoying it one bit.

 

How can he, with Kageyama barking orders, taking credit where he doesn't half deserve it, and Hinata bouncing around like he's had a bit too much Red Bull (meaning a sip).

 

A guy in a ‘13’ jersey steps in to replace Seijou’s server. This must be the Oikawa that Kageyama mentioned earlier, the “grand king” or something. But he can't be all _that_ grand if they're only putting him in now, in the final minutes of the third set.

 

Oikawa points at him, saying something, and Kei feels accused. Then the ball is a blur.

 

It hits his forearms at entirely the wrong angle, rocketing up and out of bounds. The skin stings, as does the embarrassment.

 

“You, #6 and you, #5, are bad at receives, right?”

 

Kei feels heat creep up the back of his neck as sweat runs down. He wasn't aware this was an interrogation. And he hates having been lumped in with Hinata.

 

The ball leaves Oikawa's hands right after the whistle and it happens _again_ , exactly the same as before--like a sniper rifle’s target laser is painting his forehead with the word _pathetic_. Unable to anticipate the trajectory and power, it flies off his forearms and onto the court behind him.

 

He can’t contain his frustration anymore. _“Dammit”_ slides off his lips, leaving him with the acrid aftertaste of inability. _I won’t drop the next one,_ he thinks, determination replacing frustration. The whistle sounds, the ball goes up, and it blasts toward him.

 

He doesn’t drop it, but that’s not the point. His receive turns into a free ball-- _for the other team._

 

Yes, Karasuno manages to take the match, and yes, he did help them do so, but he can’t shake the thought that the rest of the team won. They won, and _he_ lost.

 

****

 

Losing is inevitable.

 

Point after point, match after match, gone--it happens slowly, centimeter by painful centimeter until it hits him with the sleek speed of a bullet train.

 

Nekoma is first, with calmness mirroring his own. It isn’t quite the same, though, and that might be why he envies them. The quiet way they function, their ability to deal with any attack through patient observation, and the effortless simplicity they exude--it all makes for a problematic opponent.

 

He interprets their setter’s glance as one of intent, but it turns out to be a feint. It sends his mind reeling--he feels he’s been fooled, _tricked_ into displaying his lack of experience. Simple psychology continues to backfire on him, leaving him to contemplate the depths of human error.

 

They play a brutal total of three games that equate to only six sets, meaning they lost every time. Kei is left exhausted, limbs heavy with fatigue and his mind somewhere far from Miyagi. He wonders if Aki ever felt like this, and has to shove the thoughts away.

 

****

 

Two matches equaling four sets at the Inter-high leave Karasuno facing Seijou again.

 

Their aqua and white uniforms accurately represent the fluidity of their play style: spend too long staring at calm waters and you become blind to the rapids and currents that lie beneath. A classic tidal concerto orchestrated by none other than their captain, Oikawa.

 

The first set is over in a flash, a tide rolling over in Seijou’s favor. He vaguely remembers the sensation of the ball hitting his palms (whether for spikes or blocks). The more prominent feeling is the jolt of painful nostalgia that shot through him when Sugawara-san hit him on the head.

 

_Just like Aki used to do._

 

Kei is aware the brain is not designed to multitask, but that doesn’t stop his from trying ever so desperately to quash the memories and stay in the moment. Fortunately, Kageyama provides him with an ample distraction. Nothing like a _“how the hell was that toss just now, huh?”_ to bring him back to the present.

 

He can feel his nerves twinge in annoyance at being treated as though he’s a pawn to the king’s control, and expresses that as succinctly and sarcastically as he can. It seems ridiculous to have to remind such a volleyball-centered person that his teammates have brains _and_ are using them as well, but it isn’t entirely outrageous. The fact that Kei is the one to do it is… rather unexpected.

 

The next toss is more uniform, as requested, and upon scoring off the feint, a reluctant satisfaction starts to simmer in his blood. Another successful feint, and another half-successful one leave him the opportunity to blast a spike through Seijou’s defenses. A smirk fights its way onto his face, and he figures it can’t hurt to let the satisfaction burn.

 

But for a fire to keep burning, it has to have fuel, and Kei feels his diminish the second he’s taken off the court in the third set. Already he can somehow tell that Karasuno is going to lose the match. And as Hinata’s last, powerful spike slams to the floor, blocked by Seijou, whatever satisfaction that lingered is extinguished.

 

He sits with the team in the restaurant, the smell of food mingling with their blood, sweat, and tears. In the midst of this typhoon of disappointment and exhaustion, he retreats behind his walls. He picks up his chopsticks despite not being hungry and ends up resting them on his empty plate.

 

Emotions are loud. They are livable, breathable things, and Kei prefers to experience them quietly. They are what makes this kind of environment unbearably stifling.

 

_Watching effort go to waste, not amounting to what you knew it could--is this what it was like, Aki?_

 

_…I think I understand now._

 

* * *

 

There is a significant distinction between growth and evolution.

 

Though both refer to change (and in some cases, the processes), ‘growth’ is not time-specific. It’s often used along with words such as ‘slow’ or ‘rapid.’ Evolution, on the other hand, occurs over tens, hundreds, and thousands of years. While renown for being used in gradual contexts, it is also used to describe a colossal level of change--one that would normally take a long time to occur--that actually happens in a considerably short time frame.

 

The first joint practice in Tokyo is the catalyst.

 

Playing against talent makes inferiority all the more obvious, and it’s clear that while Karasuno has skill, it’s not enough. Fukurodani and Shinzen are veteran teams: those that’ve been to nationals on multiple occasions. That’s several tiers higher than Kei would dare advance.

 

The tension peaks at the summer training camp two weeks later. Karasuno is in disarray, trying to improve but all out of sync. Kei doesn’t understand why they even bother. It’s just a club.

 

_All that effort and Aki wasn’t able to show anything for it. It isn’t as though I’d be any different._

 

****

 

He’s goaded into assisting Fukurodani’s ace’s spiking practice by Kuroo, Nekoma’s captain. He knows it’s a mistake as soon as he steps forward, but he’s never been one to let insults slide--despite their ability to turn him into a pressure cooker.

 

“If you’re a middle blocker, shouldn’t you practice blocking a little more?”

 

_...Fine. Okay. But I don’t want to be exhausted tomorrow, so only for just that--a little._

 

The spikes blast by him with a power not unlike Oikawa’s, with less precision and more intensity. “You’re good at the ‘reading’ part, but your blocks sure are weak.”

 

_Thank you for pointing that out. That’s precisely why I wanted to refuse in the first place. And yet, here I am…_

 

“That shorty will take all the good parts for himself.”

 

_You just had to compare me to Hinata, didn’t you._

 

Kei has to remind himself that any reaction other than pleasantness, however false it may be, is his only method of escape.

 

“That’s just plain unavoidable, isn’t it? Hinata’s innate abilities and mine are completely different, after all.”

 

It’s a truth he hates to admit. How he manages to do so while smiling is a feat that few could hope to accomplish. But it has been said, delivered like a line from a script he’s had waiting, hoping never to have to use, and it’s high time to exit whatever stage this is.

 

****

 

When you have a talented older sibling, you tend to feel an overwhelming pressure to follow in their footsteps.

 

It starts young, with you following them around the house, and once you start school, it turns into an academics competition. It becomes a race. You feel like you need to measure up to them, catch up to them or even surpass them, despite being behind in age and experience. But the most aggravating thing about it is that you’re expected to avoid making the same mistakes.

 

This would be easier to do if that “rule” was expressed outright--instead it’s implied, making it far more complicated. You end up trying to be them, but also not trying to be them, and it turns you into a colossal self-critiquing mess.

 

It’s this train of thought that Yamaguchi smacks him out of. _“What more do you need than pride?”_

 

Kei can’t believe it’s that simple, but his best friend is right. He’s so caught up in not being Aki that he forgot about being _himself_.

 

The revelation sends him back to the third gym. It has him setting aside his hesitation and flat out asking them _why_ it matters, _why_ they put in the effort when volleyball just a club. Why is it worth it? What makes it worth it?

 

He expects his answer to come from Kuroo in some form of shrewd sage advice. To his surprise, it’s Bokuto that answers with words of wisdom.

 

The ace talks about switching from his specialty of cross spikes to straights, his enthusiasm practically contagious.

 

“With that one hit,” he says, “it felt like _my time had come!”_

 

Being able to add a weapon to his arsenal, use it to score, and succeed? That’s impressive. Congrats to him. _But… where do I fit into this?_

 

“If you experience that moment,” Bokuto continues, “it’ll really get you hooked on volleyball.”

 

The words smash through his walls, bricks scattering outward--wait, _outward?_ \--and into dust. He feels strangely liberated, as though he’s untethered himself from an anchor and can finally move freely. _It’s a matter of… that moment, then?_

 

It’s clear the others have already experienced it, at least to some degree. The third years definitely have, otherwise they wouldn’t stick around for the spring inter-high. The second years didn’t let the older Ukai (or the absence of a coach) stop them from being on the team--Nishinoya came back even after being banned. Yamaguchi isn’t dedicating time to practice his jump serve for no reason. And Hinata and Kageyama obviously experienced their moments a long time ago.

 

_I guess… that’s something I have to look forward to?_

 

Liberation is fleeting, though. His thoughts are cut short as he’s dragged into more spiking practice, but he finds he’s not as reluctant this time.

 

****

 

Kei prides himself on being a quick learner.

 

It’s imperative that he understands things quickly, else he falls behind. He wasn’t aware how behind he was in joining Karasuno’s evolutionary movement, but now he is. Very much so. And less than twenty-four hours after receiving blocking tips from Kuroo, he employs them in the match against Fukurodani.

 

Karasuno loses, which isn’t unexpected. The new quick strike is a fluke. They barely won any matches (also not surprising). But he manages to scare Bokuto into a feint.

 

The feeling that comes with that lingers. It stays with him through the rest of the training camp, and he only feels it fade as the team heads back to Miyagi. He can’t pinpoint what it is, but it has to do with the fact that almost (but not quite) against his will, his game sense is evolving.

 

****

 

Aki is there when he gets home, and he greets Kei with words he never expected to hear.

 

“You surpassed me a long time ago, huh.”

 

He’s startled into saying, “Nii-chan.” It comes off less uncomfortable than it has in a while, and he isn’t sure whether that’s a good sign.

 

After dinner, they finally have their overdue conversation. It’s one they’ve both subconsciously and consciously avoided. Kei thinks he was dreading it due to fear of being hurt again--he would stay in his room or even go to Yamaguchi’s when Aki came home. But he isn’t nearly as apprehensive towards Aki now as he used to be.

 

“Your expression is different,” Aki remarks over his shoulder, tossing the volleyball one-handed. “You went on a trip to practice, right? Was it rough?”

 

Kei resists the urge to flinch. His brother has always been able to hit the nail on the head, no matter the situation. “Not really,” he says, half wishing it sounded more convincing and half knowing Aki would be able to see through it anyway if it was.

 

“That’s definitely an ‘it was rough’ face,” his brother replies easily, starting to bounce the volleyball off the backboard of their basketball hoop.

 

Kei struggles to pull a neutral expression as the memories rise. Two years ago they were in the same places (Aki standing facing the basketball hoop, him by the house), talking about the same thing (volleyball), but this is clearly different.

 

“‘Even though it was like _that_ in high school, why are you still playing?’ Isn’t that what you want to say?”

 

Just like that, the words he won’t say (despite how much he wants to) have been forcibly removed. It takes him a moment to realize his thought filter didn’t betray him. And when he looks up at Aki, he gets the explanation he’s been waiting for.

 

“It’s _because_ it was like that in high school.”

 

 _Because he didn’t want it to end_ **_there_ ** _. Not like_ **_that_ ** _, being a bystander._

 

“I want to be somewhere where I can really give my all, until I’m satisfied,” he continues.  

 

 _To take the effort and_ **_save_ ** _it. To not let his defeat_ **_stay_ ** _a defeat._

 

“I see,” Kei says, and he _does._ Far clearer than before.

 

* * *

 

Against all odds, Karasuno defeats Seijou to face Shiratorizawa in the final match of the inter-high prelims.

 

The tension in the air makes it hard to breathe--for some people, at least. Kei isn’t one to break under pressure. He’s the one laying it on.

 

It’s the end of the second set. Karasuno lost the first one, so they _need_ to take this one while they still have decent energy reserves. If they don’t, their chances of winning decrease significantly.

 

He’s been patiently observing, waiting for Shiratorizawa’s setter to make a misstep. The setter orchestrates the attacks. Read him, stop his plays, slow them down, leer at him, anything to add to his mental strain.

 

_One-touch. One-touch! One-touch._

 

_I’m onto you._

 

They’re nearing the end of a rally. Neither team is ready to surrender. But the second the ball leaves the setter’s hands, Kei sees the unintentional white flag.

 

_Impatience is deadly._

 

Of course it’s going to Ushijima. The powerhouse will blast it through, without a doubt-- _if you don’t question your strength, it becomes susceptible to error._

 

Heading left to join Asahi for the block, he jumps, carefully placing his hands and arms to create the illusion of a window of opportunity. And after Ushijima acknowledges the “opportunity” he’s been given, after the ball leaves his hands, after there is no possibility of it changing course, Kei slams the window shut.

 

His left hand stings, his whole arm reeling from the force of the spike. He clenches his hand into a fist, fingernails digging into his palm in a mix of pain, relief, and pride.

 

A jolt of adrenaline has been injected straight into his soul.

 

Realizing that the set is over, he relaxes his muscles and straightens his spine, trying to ready himself for the noise. He’s unprepared for its intensity.

 

 _Is it selfish to cling to triumphs?_ Yes.

 

That doesn’t stop him from saving the satisfying sound of the ball thundering to the floor--his _moment--_ into a special place in his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks so much for reading!!
> 
> Did you have a favorite line/part/scene? Enjoy the characterization? Want to see more Tsukki? Drop me a comment~ I love hearing what you guys think!!


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